Marble Movie Skies
by Flashing The Floods
Summary: Zabuza already gave him a purpose, so Haku didn't need much more. Not much more at all. Shamefully awful puddle of Zabuza/Haku crap for MellaTheKnightmare.


**Author's Note: Godawful, disjointed, appallingly bad crap written for MellaTheKnightmare. Ugh, this is runny, slick, water-vomit crap ._. I'm so sorry Mella. I tried. ****I've never written about these two before and I haven't seen their arc in so long and it just...This came out so, so bad. I've rewritten it like three times, changed everything that happened three times, and it still didn't make it any better, just way shorter so there's less crap in substance. Oh bah. This is just a plotless piece of food-poisoned shit and I am ashamed of myself DX**

**Title is from Bat for Lashes. **

* * *

Gentleness isn't a synonym for weakness, nor as it ever been, though people often assume that to be so. Haku was gentle at heart, really. He was sure that if he was born somewhere else, he would've liked to be a medic instead of a mercenary. But that was neither here nor there, because he was born where he was and that very well contributed to a good portion of who he was, and if he wasn't who he was, then he wouldn't be beside Zabuza. And in his case, Zabuza was very well the reason he wasn't weak.

"Someone to cherish," he murmured quietly one day, keeping in step with said someone as he always did.

"Eh?" Zabuza tossed him a glance.

"You can't be weak when you have someone to cherish," Haku chirped in response, cocoa depths softening and twinkling with his own brand of resolve. "You have to be able to protect them, after all."

Zabuza didn't respond with words, but gave a gruff noise in the back of his throat. Even so, he placed his hand on top of Haku's head and the effeminate man could see the shape of his lips twitching up beneath his mask of bandages. Haku smiled and absorbed his touch like the snow absorbed (so much) spilled blood, and it was all Haku needed. He never needed any more than that, for his love was the generous type that could give, give, _give_ without perquisite once it was unlocked.

But that's not to say he never got anything other than a pat on the head.

Once, when the day was winding down and they were left to temporary placidity within the rice walls of their own room, and Haku could still feel dead skin under his nails even though he never physically touched the target, Zabuza simply sat beside him and stroked his fingers through his hair for minutes on end. Haku sighed softly through his nose and eagerly endured. Such a thing was unusually meaningless/delicate for Zabuza and he impishly told him so.

The broader shinobi paused and held onto his tresses for a moment, gingerly tugging before he let them through his fingers completely. "Raven's ink," he muttered in all coarse simplicity.

"That's the best compliment I've received on it," Haku replied, subtle smile curving his mouth.

"You can fight with it long," Zabuza went on. "I taught you that."

"You taught me everything," Haku breathed in contentment and rested his head on Zabuza's shoulder. It was mostly true. Not _exactly_, but mostly. Zabuza's tough, minutely-scarred hand found his for a little while. A little while was all Haku wanted, really.

Not too long after that was a time when Haku felt inexplicably, bitterly chilled for any number of reasons under the sun. His skin prickled and the ice he could create to do his bidding splintered into his nerves and frosted around the rungs of his spine. His organs were pulsing snowflakes, probably, but he didn't notice he was shivering until Zabuza measured him with a glance and asked why.

"I'm cold," he answered, for lack of a better explanation.

Zabuza stepped over and put a hand to his forehead and then drew it down, tenderly cupping his cheek. It was the first time he would do such a thing, and the second time would occur exactly a month to the day later, when Haku would be even colder than he was now, chest still as lungs no longer functioned, body limp and stiff at the same time and drenched in the drying blood that Zabuza would have under his fingernails.

"That's better," Haku murmured and his smaller hand closed over Zabuza's as he inclined his face into the touch.

Caught in an uncommon moment where his mouth was uncovered, Zabuza leaned in, breath fogging over Haku's lips and tickling the cold out of them. He left it to Haku to connect them, and then they were kissing. It was wet, rough and sweet and Haku's eyes closed as warmth radiated between them and chased away the rest of the ice.

In another lifetime, maybe it could've stayed that way.


End file.
